


Through the Illusion

by fairlylocaldreamer



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 04:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19165849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairlylocaldreamer/pseuds/fairlylocaldreamer
Summary: "It rained again.It's been pooling and puddling, tracing all the way down and settling into corners and exposing how uneven it all is.It's mirroring from itself up so I'm sending ripples through the illusionAnd the tips of my hands wander for you in the loud gray,Brushing like whispers over cold sheetsor dry streets.So cautiously. Almost still"





	Through the Illusion

It had rained again.

The tips of her combat boots parted through the puddles, sending ripples spiraling with each step. Her image was distorted if she looked toward the ground, so she turned her gaze toward the sky, toward the mirror image of the asphalt and dewy leaves.

It had been two weeks and five days since he'd been gone.

It would be another four weeks before he came back.

And it had always been like that. His absence created gaps that were difficult to fill, cracks that twisted ice through every part of her being. It was normal to miss him, but it was hard to let him go time and time again.

Every morning, her hands wandered through cold sheets for a body that was halfway across the world. Without him, everything became uneven, like the beating of her heart had been thrown just slightly out of sync. She loved his happiness but hated the way it took him away from her, the way big cities and bright lights bustled him everywhere but home.

The breath she drew into her lungs tasted like rain and earth. The air was heavy, like the world was waiting with bated breath for a ray of sunlight to emerge.

Despite the absence of light, the third finger of her left hand glittered. The ring was a grounding weight, a reminder that someday, soon, he would come back. The illusion would smooth out, body heat would warm the sheets, the beat of her heart would return to its steady rhythm.

In the meantime, she was waiting.

Cautiously, almost still.

**Author's Note:**

> summary is from debby's insta. I love her poetry.  
> thanks for reading! leave kudos or comments if you want, and have a great day/night/whatever. stay street my dudes.


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